


don't go where i can't follow

by alwaysyourqueen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Final Vecna Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysyourqueen/pseuds/alwaysyourqueen
Summary: They both remember the words he spoke to her, of course. If she’s to stay at his side, to never leave his sight, then she needs to be able to follow wherever he leads. She will always stay near to him, never far away. She knows, no matter what he asks, she would follow him now. To keep her brother in her life.
Relationships: Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	don't go where i can't follow

It’s her fault.

That’s all Vex can think, as she sits beside her brother.

They’re going to die tomorrow, she knows. That part isn’t her fault. It’s all of their faults, for being fucking heroes. She sits down next to Vax. He’s quiet. He’s been quiet for a while now.

She looks at him. It only took most of their lives, but now they’re both wearing feathers in their hair. His feathers are black, a mark of his goddess and his taste in clothing. They almost blend in, but they make him look a little more part of the world. He’s not wearing his armor, and for a second she forgets.

For that second, it’s just the two of them. No Percy, no Keyleth, no Grog, no Scanlan, no Pike, no Tary, no nothing. The two of them against the world again. She’d tuck his hair behind his ears and maybe mess up the rest of it. She’d talk about some job they could do, and he’d argue but get ready to go. She’d pack up their money and sharpen one of his daggers because he didn’t need her to but she wanted to and she does it better, anyways. For that second, they’re selfish, on their own, a family of two plus Trinket.

The second is over and she’s back in the present. Vax is going to die tomorrow and so are the rest of them and they won’t get to rest together.

“Can I comb your hair?” Vex finally asks. It stops it from being quiet. She can’t leave things unsaid, not when all they have left is tomorrow.

Vax nods his head, pulling the few things he decorates his hair with out so that it hangs free. Untied, hanging in a mess. It was less messy than most people’s, but the two of them kept their hair beautiful as often as possible. It was something they had control over and always had.

Vex grabs the simple comb they’ve had for years. It’s one of the earliest things they got together, a purchase not only of practicality but indulgence of having access to their own resources. He moves into place in front of her, his back slightly hunched to make it easier for her to reach the hair. Her fingers go to lift the black locks, and she feels the silky texture. It has no residual human warmth that she expects when she takes hair off a person’s back. Then she starts to draw the comb through his hair, and she finds herself incredibly frustrated.

She’s frustrated because, of everything, his hair is somehow not tangled. It’s not perfectly in place, but more than ever it’s so fucking easy to draw the comb through. It’s a reminder he’s not who he is anymore. She still pulls the comb through, trying to find any small knot to undo. A sign that he still needs her. Each one that she thinks she’s found untangles itself within moments. Eventually she’s combed it all twice, and her arm burns from the motions.

She sets down the comb and tugs at her brother, wrapping herself around him. He can tell that that part is over, and the two of them envelop one another like they’re hiding from everything. Vax wraps every bit of himself in his sister, the two of them one unit like they’d been once upon a time.

Vex can feel the burning in her skin. The burning from holding up her hands, but the burning from knowing this contact with her brother is some of the last she will ever have. Burning her until everything she is exposes herself to the wind with her soul bared for all to see. She wonders if Vax feels that same burning or if the cold of his dead body robs him of viscerally missing her touch as well.

Rather than say anything about the way her hands want to hold her brother’s forever, the way she would do anything to keep him with her for another day, even another minute, she simply says, “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

They both remember the words he spoke to her, of course. If she’s to stay at his side, to never leave his sight, then she needs to be able to follow wherever he leads. She will always stay near to him, never far away. She knows, no matter what he asks, she would follow him now. To keep her brother in her life.

“I wish.”

Those words strike burning knives into Vex’s heart. She feels the pain in her chest, more acutely than she felt the burning in her skin. Like if her heart was carved into pieces.

“Don’t go.”

Hot tears well up around her eyes, and they start to drip down her face like a now-overflowing dam. A cascade that once started cannot stop. It isn’t until she feels the way Vax’s hands shook around her that she realized he was crying too. His tears feel unfairly like validation, that her brother is still there and feeling as horribly as she is. She deserves to share her suffering with someone in this moment, and her brother is the person who knows how she feels better than anyone. He will share her pain.

“I wouldn’t, had I a choice.” His voice is quiet, shaking like a piece of china vibrating and getting ready to shatter. Just because she knows it’s the truth doesn’t make it any better.

Vex’s voice abandons her, so she simply takes shelter in Vax’s arms. The two of them shudder and fail to speak.

Despite thinking she could never sleep again, Vex finds herself waking up in the middle of the night. She doesn’t remember a bad dream, but she must have had one to wake up this late. The candle that had lit up the room hours before was long since burnt out, but her half-elven eyes can see shapes in the dark. Her limbs are tangled with those of her brother, a mess where it’s almost hard to tell whose leg is whose.

“Are you awake?” Her voice is hardly above a whisper as she breaks the quiet of night. She doesn’t actually expect an answer, but she gets one.

“I don’t sleep much.” His response is equally quiet, breaking another piece of her heart in the process.

“Is it near?”

“Not yet.”

Vex doesn’t know what else to say.

“Vax?”

“Yes?”

“Will you come and visit?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Will you at least walk with me, when I go?”

“Yes.”


End file.
